


Broken Hero

by YoMo715



Series: Remembered Anew (Breath of the Wild Ficlets) [5]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Calamity, Pre-Calamity, Sad, casual zelink, link's seen some shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 00:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12287121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoMo715/pseuds/YoMo715
Summary: What happens when even the chosen hero loses his resolve?





	Broken Hero

 

It was a grim sight to behold.

Link sat atop the mound of a small hill south of the central plains. His weary eyes gazed upon what he could see of the decimated castle. The awesome structure, once a beacon of hope, peace, and prosperity, now lay in ruin, engulfed by the swirling blackness of unholy hatred. Blazing fires scourged what was left of Castletown as corrupted guardians carved paths of destruction. 

He could still smell the smoke and ash of the burning buildings. Feel the smothering heat of the flames leaping at them from every angle. Hear the cries of countless innocents, unable to escape the wrath of the horrible phantom. 

The king. The divine beasts. The champions. The calamity had claimed all to its rage, destroying everything in a matter of hours. 

Battered but alive, he and the princess managed to escape the massacr. I'm e unharmed. 

Physically, anyway. 

He broke his gaze from the castle for a moment to survey her status. Zelda sprawled on her side underneath a small outcropping of rock hidden from the rain, where she took some much needed rest. It seemed she finally fell asleep, as her once ragged and anxious breaths had evened into calmer, shallow ones. 

Link’s normally guarded expression relaxed for just a moment, the slight hints of relief seeping through as he watched her. Something else, too. Sadness? Sympathy?

The princess had lost all resolve as they fled the battlefield. Unable to bear the weight of her grief any longer, Zelda collapsed into a pool of tears. She could do nothing more than cry. A hopeless, painful, agonizing cry that shook Link to his very core. Other than holding her in a tight embrace, something that seemed to keep her very frame from falling to pieces, there was nothing at all he could do to console her. There were no words to speak that would offer any sort of comfort.

On some level, he could understand her pain. It was an immense weight, so heavy that the world seemed to cave in on his shoulders. Perhaps, he thought, that embrace held both of them together in that moment. 

Unfortunately that moment didn't last long enough for them to process their grief. The skittering, mechanical noises of a guardian stirred the surrounding flora, and all too quickly they were pulled back to their horrible reality. The collapsed princess, still reeling in her emotions, had no strength left to support herself. Or she refused to. Maybe she believed this was their fate all along. 

That was not, however, something Link was willing to accept. He didn't allow Zelda the luxury of time to decide for herself, instead opting to carry her in his arms. It was, albeit, a rather unorthodox method, but it proved extremely effective in evading the merciless guardian. 

Even after they fled the forest, he continued to carry her for quite some time. Minutes passed like hours. Hours felt like days. Link found himself lost among the fields in the midst of the rainstorm. His body burned like fire and every muscle ached, but he refused to stop until they found shelter. 

Thankfully, he came upon a small outcrop of rock atop this hill. The sight of the castle peaks, dreadful as they were, allowed Link to regain his bearings. Only then did he finally feel the slightest semblance of safety. 

Despite all the turmoil and suffering the two had endured over the course of the night, Link thought it best if they at least attempted to sleep. They were both pushed to the brink of collapsing, made most apparent by Zelda’s disposition. She did exactly as she was told. Only a shell of her former self, she behaved in a mechanical manner likened to the precise robotic motions of a guardian. Simple nods were all she would give in the form of communication, complying without hesitation as he suggested she lie down under the safety of the outcropping. 

It was only when Link turned away to keep watch that he heard a few sniffling noises. He was tempted to look back at her, but ultimately decided to allow her privacy. 

The icy sting of the cold rain pelted his body like pin pricks of needles. They bothered him for a while, but before long they faded into nothing but a cold numbness. It was befitting of his own feelings. Maybe it was the ache of his body or the fatigue of his mind, but the dreadful weight he felt earlier had subsided. It felt like nothing at all now. 

He turned back to the castle. A few of the fires had disappeared. Snuffed out by the rain, he figured. A new orange glow came to his attention. It was northeast of the castle, and he couldn’t make out the area in question from his current position, but he realized it must have been the fortress in Akkala. The guardians had turned their attack elsewhere of the castle, spreading darkness to new terrains. 

There were people there, fighting for their lives. People he knew: knights, friends, acquaintances. But their battle was futile. They hadn’t the first clue on how to defeat the machines. It wouldn’t be long until the fortress fell. Until all of Hyrule would be under siege. 

Link thought he should feel something. An emotion should stir. Anger. Despair. Guilt. Anything. 

But he felt nothing at all. 

He turned again, this time to look over himself. His champion’s tunic was sullied and torn, covered in mud and splotches of crimson from occasional scrapes and gashes here and there. His hands, slightly torn up as well, showed the slightest tremor. Was it from Fear? Sorrow? Or perhaps they were simply shaking from the cold. Link couldn’t tell. 

He drew the Blade of Evil’s bane from its sheath, laying the weapon on the grass in front of him. There was always something magical about the Master Sword. Of course, not just in the fact that it was a magical tool, but on the mental pedestal that Link’s mind usually conjured it. 

A sword to slay evil. All evil. To bring light back to the world. Supposedly it was to shine with light in the face of evil. 

Why, then, did it now appear so dull? 

As though responding in reflex, his back straightened. He felt so much lighter without the blade on his back. 

Link gazed upon the sword, his eyes glazed over in exhaustion. They were transfixed upon the blade, yet his mind was completely blank. Somehow he felt even more numb than before. Sounds fell away. His vision faded. After a while, he could only feel the constant drumming of his heart, his senses failing to recognize anything else. 

“You can talk to me, you know,” a voice from a memory echoed in the walls of his mind. 

And then, with absolutely no warning, everything burst at once. Like a pot boiling over, or a fire setting ablaze, he flared to life with a monstrous roar. Emotion manifested itself in the form of a childish tantrum, filled with screams until his voice grew hoarse. 

There were many things he did in that moment. Some of which included pounding his fists on the grass, and standing and kicking the trunk of a tree. He was wild like an untamed beast, his eyes feral and mad with rage. Uncontrollable. Unconsolable.

Overwhelmed by his own anguish. 

When Link finally regained some control of himself, he was panting heavily. His head leaned against a nearby tree trunk as he clung to it for support. Fury ebbed away, revealing a throbbing pain from fresh bruises. They left him unsteady, a visible tremor running from the bottom of his feet up to his quaking arms. His vision was bleary. He didn’t know if it was from tears, but he didn’t care. Granting the tree one final fistful of anger, he thanked it by whispering a curse before slumping over. 

All energy spent, Link was forced to his knees. That heavy weight from before had returned, but now felt like it began to crush him. 

Eventually Link realized a pair of gentle hands were grasping his shoulders. 

“Link!” Zelda cried out, kneeling to his level. She gave him a little shake in an attempt to rouse him from his stupor.

Link’s reaction was extreme. He abruptly turned, flinching away at her sudden appearance. A strange sound escaped him _ — _ something between a choke and a gasp _ — _ as he scrambled to move far away. 

“What’s the matter?” Zelda asked, her voice trembling. “What happened?” 

He refused to look at the princess, but he could hear her crawl towards him by the slapping sounds her hands and dress made against the wet, soggy earth. All he could do was shake his head. His chest tightened as the crushing weight became even heavier. Appearing uncharacteristically childlike, he curled himself into a tight ball, shielding his shameful appearance from the world. 

Another gentle touch graced his arm, and again he flinched away. He shook his head for the second time, physically unable to face her. Link’s voice faltered, not sounding convincing in the slightest. “I’m fine, your highness,” he was finally able to croak. “I apologize for waking you.” 

“But _ — _ ” she began. 

“Just go back to sleep,” Link protested. 

A long silence lingered between the two. Link dared not move, waiting for the princess to return to her resting place so he could relax. However, he never heard her move away. The only sound between them was the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the ground. 

“I will do no such thing,” Zelda spoke first. Link heard her begin to move, his body tightening more as she neared. Her voice lacked the usual confidence she always seemed to sport, understandably so in their current situation. “I believe I said once before that you can...you can confide in me. So,” a pause. “Now is that time.” 

Link froze as he felt her hand upon his back, becoming still as stone. Even his breathing had stopped, all motions ceasing for a moment as Zelda slowly curled her arms around his shoulders. He knew the gesture was meant to be a sign of reassurance, but it brought him no comfort.

“Tell me what is on your mind,” Link heard her whisper. Her voice was close, closer than it had ever been before.

And yet, it felt so very far away. 

“No,” Link raised his arms, uncurling himself from her grasp and moving away a third time. This time, though, he forced himself to look at her in an attempt to regain some of the former courage he seemed to have lost. 

The princess was still sitting nearby, one arm stretched out reflexively in response to his rejection. It faltered, returning to her side as she watched him. Their eyes only met for a few seconds, but in that short silence they communed. Words weren't needed for their raw, unrefined emotions. 

Both of them conveyed a few of the same expressions. Their eyes were tired, a heaviness dulling their shine a slight amount as they were weighted with a specific kind of sadness.

Zelda brimmed with another emotion. Concern traced from her wrinkled brow to her pursed lips, breaking through the hollow emptiness of melancholy. 

Link’s dulled eyes reacted to this emotion. He couldn't help himself. It only took one look at her for the pained expression of pure grief to grace his face, one a child would show their mother just before they burst into tears. He grasped his arms tightly at that unwanted reaction, pressing his face into his knees as he returned to safety. 

“I can't,” Link continued after a long while. 

He heard her advance once more, the gestures ever so quiet but enough for him to tense again. “You can,” she tried to reassure. “Whatever is ailing you, please allow me to _ — _ ” 

“I can’t!” His fierce shout hushed Zelda’s voice mid sentence. Link threw his arms to the ground in a fit of frustration. His fists pounded against the wet earth, splashing mud on both himself and the princess.

She recoiled, watching as he returned his shaking hands to his head. “Why?” He heard her whisper, her voice as turmoiled as his own. 

He shook his head at first, his jumbled thoughts unable to form proper words. After a few moments he answered. His voice was barely audible. “I can't say it. If I say it, I don't _ — _ ” he gripped his shoulders tighter. “I don't think I'll have the strength to fight anymore.” 

As the deafening silence between them grew, so did the intensity of the rain. Light droplets swelled into a downpour. The pitter-patter from before transformed into thunderous applause, drowning them in its rhythm. Link lifted his head, looking back at the blazing orange fires of the fortress. They had dimmed, ever so slightly, perhaps because of the rain. 

How could he even begin to explain himself? There weren’t words to describe the staggering sense of loss he felt. Their world had crumbled in a single night. The castle and the town had burned to ash, and there was absolutely nothing he could have done to prevent it. He tried. By the goddesses, he fought with all his strength. But the battle was brief. The fabled hero, the one who wielded the sword — people looked to him with such hope, but he couldn’t smite a single beast or protect a single person. All he had trained for, thwarted by the strength of the calamity in one fell swoop. 

And the screams of terror, the cries of fear and despair. Everything had become so overwhelming. 

“How much longer,” he heard himself whisper, “until we lose everything?” 

Zelda, of course, couldn't answer. 

His eyes flickered to her, watching her retreat as she sat back on her heels. She appeared to mimic him, assuming the same insecure pose he was in. The princess’s eyes fell to her knees, and she stared at a splotch of mud staining her pure white gown. 

The two remained in that state for a quite a time, neither moving nor speaking. A moment of reflection, Link figured. His mind had fallen quiet again, probably utilizing the numb feeling as a coping mechanism to combat the stress he was currently facing. 

This contemplation, depressing for him, caused him to stare at a particularly uninteresting blade of grass. However, he noticed the small changes in Zelda's demeanor. After hearing a small grumble come from her lips, she stood. It was an unexpected, abrupt movement that somehow managed to startle the normally unflinching warrior. 

Zelda spoke, and she did so with a frustrated huff. “I, for one, am finished mulling around being useless.” The quivering, angry tones uttering from her stupefied Link. He was completely unprepared for this kind of conduct. “We will have time to properly mourn later, but for now we had best make for Kakariko. With  _ haste _ ,” she declared.  

The princess neared once again. This time, blunt and brazen, she shoved her hand into his range of vision. Link blinked at it at first, dumbfounded. If the circumstances were different, he could have been amused by the scene as Zelda began to wag her hand back and forth with increasing impatience.

It was an offering. One to help him to his feet and restore vigor in his soul, and it was exactly what he needed. His own hands were still shaking, but he too decided enough was enough. 

This was not the time to fall into despair. If anything, this should have been the time when resolve was at its strongest. They had lost this battle, yes, but there was still a war to be fought. Many had died, many more will die, but even so he would not stop. He would not stop until every demon was vanquished, until all evil was scrubbed clean off the face of the earth. He would only find true peace when he turned the darkness into light. 

Was that not what it meant for him when he pulled the sword? 

Link uncurled, using his left hand to accept her offering and his right to grasp his blade. He too stood to his feet, and in an instant the world looked just a bit brighter. 

“Kakariko?” He decided to ask first, facing her fully. 

“Yes.” She nodded. “I’m quite positive most of the Sheikah have recouped there, and we must arm ourselves with knowledge on how to fight the Guardians,” Zelda explained as she started to climb atop the outcropping. Link reached out to hold her hand in support, as her sandals provided little grip from the slippery wet rocks. “I’m sure we’ve moved southeast,” she muttered as she gave her best attempt at directions. “Curse this dress. If not for it I’d still have the Sheikah slate,” she complained. 

“Sorry.” Link gave her an apologetic look. “I just started running.” 

Zelda returned his expression with a frown of her own, knowing full well the circumstances of their dire expedition. She then pointed in a specific direction, and his eyes followed. “I believe this is the right way. It’s difficult to tell in the rain, but I think I can make out the crests of the Twin Peaks over there.” 

The next event happened in a few seconds or less, though to Link time slowed to a crawl. Thank Hylia he glanced back at Zelda, for if not he would have failed to spot the bright red target flickering on her back. 

There was no time to yell or shout out. Without thinking he snapped his arm back, yanking the princess from the pedestal to escape the bright blue ray that was sure to follow. The automated beast, sharp as ever, tracked the princess’s trail. As a result, the target just grazed Link’s right side. 

The blue beam started to form now. The guardian had enough distance between them to mask its mechanical hum in the rain, but it was just too close for him to properly react. 

Link knew he wouldn’t be able to dodge. 

His body continued to move of its own accord. Zelda was still falling, though her foot had touched the ground. She was going to land right beside him, and at this rate, also become a victim to the beam. This would not do. Before her weight could sink into the earth, he turned his arm to shove her shoulders in the other direction. She pivoted involuntarily, falling back rather than towards him. 

The beam and Link were separated by a few feet. Link took the remaining millisecond of time to glance at the princess he had sworn to protect. If this was his final act, then so be it, but he would never let harm befall her. His hand, still grabbing her wrist, loosened. He watched as she slipped from his grip and fell away, where she would be safe, if only for a few seconds. Zelda’s mouth had begun to form a grimace-a sudden cry of fear, he predicted. 

Then he was met with a blinding flash, an explosion engulfing his vision entirely. 

***

Link couldn’t restrain himself from yelling out. The pure shock of pain stole whatever breath he had away, and he fell to his knees. His hands clutched his side, still feeling the white hot burns sear his chest and back. 

The memory of this place was cruel. Others had returned with grace or subtlety, but this one left him white as a sheet, covered in sweat and shaking like a leaf. 

His eyes watered. The pain was horrible, like nothing else he had felt before. A thousand needles pierced his side at once, or perhaps it was more like being submerged in scalding water. Even the memory of Zelda’s awakening, of his own death, was incomparable to this agony. 

Link gasped again, the images still replaying in his mind. He felt like he couldn't breathe. The taste of blood overpowered his mouth, feeling it well and spill as he recalled choking and gagging. 

Then, a tug on his arm. Zelda had pulled him to safety as another beam fired in the spot he had just been. Adrenaline took over, and they ran. As far as possible, until he could run no longer. 

Link forced himself to breathe evenly. It took every ounce of willpower he had to pull himself from this horrendous nightmare. The physical pain eventually ebbed, but the dull ache of melancholy would not. It was a stubborn pain that grew with every reclamation, one that left him feeling hollow and sad. This one in particular gave him more grief than the others. 

Link closed his eyes, breathing a weak sigh as the princess, who was gathering a bushel of apples from a nearby tree, kneeled beside him. “Are you alright?” Zelda asked. “You’re pale as a ghost.” 

“I just remembered something,” he answered, avoiding her gaze. 

“Just now?” Her eyes seemed to light up at first, but she then masked her curiosity with a frown. “What was it? If you don't mind me inquiring, of course,” Zelda added the second phrase with caution. 

Link showed her a tiny smile but failed to hide the hint of sadness in his eyes. He gestured to the hill ahead of them, the very hill where his memory happened one hundred years ago. 

Zelda, too, fell silent. 

“It was my fault,” Link listened to the birds flutter about the greenery. Zelda opened her mouth to protest, but he quelled her by shaking his head. “I think I was broken,” he thought aloud, his voice quiet as his eyes drifted back to the hill. “I felt like such a failure for not being able to do anything. I’d never been so...” he frowned. “So helpless.” 

Zelda frowned herself. “The attack was devastating,” was the first, simplest explanation she gave. “None of us knew just how terrible the calamity was, and that is why we lost.” The princess folded her hands neatly in her lap, her posture equivalent to a sigh as an air of loneliness encompassed her. 

Link frowned at this. It was more a gesture of sympathy, but a simple yet hopeless wish formed. “I just _ — _ ” he shook his head. “Nevermind.” He stood, patting the dirt off his clothes. 

Zelda’s inquisitive nature broke through the veil of sorrow. “What?” was all she asked. 

Link sighed, but entertained her. “It was just a tiny second,” he looked away. “One moment where I doubted myself.” Link walked toward the hill, unsheathing the master sword. It gleamed brightly in the sun, giving an otherworldly glow. “If I hadn't, I would’ve stopped that guardian, and I wouldn't have kept you waiting so long.”  Link lowered the sword, his gaze following it to the ground. 

Zelda was silent for just a few beats, but answered, “perhaps so.” Link’s eyes flickered back to her, surprised to find the princess staring back at him with just the slightest hint of a pout playing on her lips. “But you must also remember that we are, first and foremost, human.” His eyes widened as she stood by his side on the hill. 

“You were not the only one to lose your way that night,” Zelda continued in a hushed voice. She looked to the outcropping, and he could see from her eyes that her mind swam in her own century-old memories. “We are not perfect beings, and we all have our doubts and fears. I would much rather falter once than struggle for an eternity until I have become like an automaton.” She walked forward, holding herself in all her grace and dignity. Just as ethereal as Link’s sword, though it was now sheathed. “And do not forget that we cannot change the past. We are all _ — _ ”

The princess’s speech was cut short by a little chortle. Her head snapped back to Link, eyes large as his chuckles only grew. “What?” Zelda couldn’t help but ask, frowning. 

Link forced himself quiet, but the grin refused to flatten. “You sound like an old wise woman.” He laughed again. 

At once, the radiance of her grace disappeared. Zelda flashed him a mean look. “I am trying to give advice,” she crossed her arms. “Besides, I am technically one hundred and seventeen years old!”

“I know, sorry, sorry,” Link raised his hands in defense, but his smile softened as he watched her. “I get what you mean, though.” 

“Really,” Zelda shook her head, her own smile forming. “You’ve grown too bold.” 

Link laughed again. “‘Too bold’? No,” he joked. “‘Too bold’ would be telling you about the armoranth leaf that’s been stuck in your teeth all morning.” His laughs turned to bellows at the look of raw horror that overcame Zelda. “Kidding, just kidding!” The warrior flinched as the princess smacked his arm, and she too began to laugh. 

The light-hearted turn of the conversation, despite being highly inappropriate, was just the change the hero needed. Link flopped to the ground and closed his eyes, at once elated and exhausted. The sun was bright and warm, the sky blue as the sea and the sparrows sung as loudly as ever. He couldn’t have hoped for better weather. The turmoil of the memory began to subside. It was, in fact, just a memory after all.

The princess took a seat beside Link. “You’ve changed,” Zelda’s voice was hushed, yet it sounded like a smile.   

“Have I?” Link breathed out in a hum. He seemed disinterested, but he was genuinely curious. There had been glimpses into the past, yet his memories were almost exclusively of the princess. Not that he was complaining about that, but he was still searching for his own missing life. 

He surely had a mother, a home, and friends. What were his hobbies? Where did he grow up? He didn’t even know his true age, he realized. Probably over seventeen, considering he had traversed the Lanayru Mountains with Zelda. Or maybe he had been given the king’s blessing since he was Zelda’s appointed knight?

“For the better, truthfully,” Zelda’s voice cut into Link’s thoughts. He blinked, turning his head a little to give her his full attention. “You used to be so quiet. And,” she turned to him with a bold expression, “serious.” He smiled in response. “When we first met, I admit I was rather intimidated. Wherever I went you would follow, as a chick would a mother hen,” Zelda chuckled at her next thought. “Though I believe you were more the mother hen than I. So very protective.” 

“Well it  _ is _ my duty to protect you,” Link interjected with the manner of a pouting child. He sat upright, wanting to hear more of her story. 

“Yes, of course, but it was different,” Zelda laughed once. “You would not speak a word unless you were spoken to. You were proper and poised as a knight should be, however there was never a laugh or even a smile save for a select few moments from what I can recall.” Her gaze softened as she reminisced. “You told me why, eventually. How you felt compelled to become the hero you were claimed to be, and that pressure stole your words and emotions.” 

“Sounds kind of depressing.” Link frowned. 

“As I said, you have changed.” Zelda looked to him with a small smile. “Perhaps the loss of your memories was a blessing in disguise.” 

“What?” Link scoffed. “You can’t mean that.”

“I can,” Zelda countered just as quickly. “You had forgotten the person you once were, and because of that, you could become the person you were truly meant to be.” 

Link fell quiet. He could feel that truth welling inside him from his most recent memory. That tantrum, childish as it had been, was the explosive result of the accumulation of stresses and frustrations he had stored inside himself for far too long. “You’re right.” He agreed. “I hated who I was.”

“I know you did.” The princess’s smile turned doleful. 

The two were greeted with a gentle breeze, adding a measure of comfort to the silence between them. It was a kind of tranquility, almost. Link pulled in a deep breath and smelled the fresh spring air that passed them by. 

“I still kind of feel like a newborn,” he said without thinking. 

Zelda was taken aback by the innocent statement, a wide smile spreading across her lips as she chuckled. “How do you mean?” She asked between laughs. 

“When I first woke up, I didn’t know anything,” Link explained as he stared at the outcropping. “Well, I mean I knew what the sky and trees were of course, but everything else was so foreign and new. I thought it was really exciting.” He looked to her with a smile and stood. “It’s been awhile since I woke up, and I know a lot of the world now, but I’m still excited to find out more.” He ran to the hill without warning, unafraid of his old memories as he leaped to the top of the boulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so...free.” Link’s grin widened, and he looked to the wide open sky. He blinked, a thought coming to his mind as he glanced at the princess. “Don’t you feel like that too?”

Zelda had stood, a faint but warm smile brightening her face. “Yes,” she answered as she neared him. 

Link’s smile grew. He outstretched his hand, offering her the same support she had offered him all those years ago. She didn’t hesitate, firmly grasping his hand as he pulled her to the top. 

“We’re both free now,” Link whispered, his mind adrift in the sky and clouds above them. 

The outcropping didn’t provide much of a view. It barely capped the trees of the forest surrounding the hill. Link had scaled the highest Hyrulean mountains during his adventures, and watched the sun rise from tens of thousands of feet above the sea.

  
But at this very moment in time, he was truly on top of the world.    


**Author's Note:**

> This was the ficlet I wrote so it's not that great :'D I still like it tho xD
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!


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